The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me, it will probably be completely bizarre and random

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!- What I create will be just for you.- It'll be done this year.- You have no clue what it's going to be. It may be a story. It may be poetry. I may draw or paint something. I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!- I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.

The catch? Oh, the catch is that you have to repost. We can all make stuff!!

§ And for those of you who miss the cut, a meme nabbed from talcat:

Name me two characters from different fandoms and I'll tell you how they know each other. Or give me two different fandoms and I'll tell you how they are connected.

((I'm feeling generous, so I'll try squeeze you in something also ;D))

“So, tell me again why your God wants you to be my Guardian Angel?” John Hart looked up from the pillow of his arms, his bleary-eyed stare lazily roaming the length of the bar before him (overturned tumbles and broken glass bottles, the smell of alcohol strong as it ran in a pool over the wooden bartop and drip-drip-dripped in a steady stream down onto the floor).

The man- angel, he corrected himself with a snort of laughter- stood impassively before him. His face a mask which showed no emotion save for a minute twitching of the eyes as he became aware of the way John ran his eyes up the length of his trench-coat clad body. John grinned, waggling his eyebrows as he waited for his reply.

“How many times would you like me to repeat it?” The angel, Castiel, asked.

“Just until it stops sounding so damn hilarious,” John laughed, his fingers scrambling for another tumbler and an unbroken bottle of vodka. The angel beat him to it as a wave of his arm had everything thrown from the bar and far out of John’s reach.

John sucked in a breath, feeling a sudden sobriety come over him as he saw what he’d later swear were fucken wings unfurling like shadows from the angel’s back. He felt his mouth drop open in shock for an instant only before another grin split his face.

“Ooft, that’s a nifty trick, Cas,” he purred, leering over the bar towards the angel.

“It’s Castiel, if you please,” the angel replied.

“Honey, I’ll call you anything if you can pull those things out in bed!”